Urban Fantasy

Monday, February 07, 2005

Fun With Links and Righteous Indignation

During the Job That Must Not Be Named, I read a lot of blogs. Most of them were funny, some of them were touching and intelligent, all were snarky and bitter as hell. One of my favorites effectively sums up much of what is wrong with my fair city. However, recent events prove that when Red Staters bitch about what those Crazy Politicians are doing with Our Tax Dollars in Washington, the real waste of time is happening just over the river with our bucktoothed, inbred bastard stepchild of a neighbor:

Isn't it great? When you're driving Cletus and Bobbie Sue Betty Jo Ann to the shootin' range after their public-school sanctioned queer-bashing, no one will mistake you for another liberal homo-lovin' pansy ass Commie Jew! Just in case your "God Hates Gays" and "Neener-Neener, You Can't Buttfuck in the Bonds of Matrimony" bumper stickers left any room for debate, this lovely license plate will clear matters up!

I mean really. Can these people find no other way to spend their time? I can think of a fewpressingconcerns.

Friday, February 04, 2005

I'm Not Bitter, Just Have Too Much Time to Think

Can we please discuss the annoyance that is the second-most recent issue of Time magazine? The one with the cover of the mild-looking 20something white guy sitting in a a teeny sandbox and a blaring headline screaming "THEY JUST WON'T GROW UP!" Apparently, Time believes that the real threat to this nation is not internation terrorism, not a sharply divided cultural landscape that can't agree on anything, nor the total inability of our President to utter multisyllabic words. Nay, our great nation will be internally ruined by... overeducated 20somethings who don't know what they want to do with their lives!

Perhaps my sensitivity to this topic is because I am off the employment train, at least temporarily. I realize, as I write this, that I fulfill all the stereotypes about the "Twixter." I am currently without job, am sitting in my parent's house on a Friday afternoon (wearing my mother's really excellent new bathrobe), blogging at 3:22 PM.

However, this was not always the case. When I couldn't find a job right out of college, despite having the most overpolished resume of anyone I grew up with, I worked retail until taking the first job that came my way. I scrimped and saved, paid my own way for everything, and bit my lip to do the best at my job despite the barrage of verbal abuse hurled at me daily. Point is, I did the grownup thing. Even now, the circumstances are temporary, and I will continue to do the grownup thing as soon as I possibly can.

I wound up in a lousy situation partly because the work ethic I grew up with told me to take whatever job came along and be damn grateful for it. I admit that I was attracted by the shiny, boldface names, names that caused me to throw caution to the wind and ignore the little voice in my head that was whispering "This is The Devil Wears Prada, only the shoes aren't as cute!"

And so, Time magazine, you can take your criticism of my generation and shove it up your geriatric ass.